Black The Sun
by Bouncing Ferret
Summary: Harry's 6th year at Hogwarts leaves him feeling pretty crappy, and so on and so forth... Chapter 3 up
1. Default Chapter

-Disclaimer-  
  
In case you're yet to notice, I am not J.K. Rowling. If I were, I'd be rich. Harry and the crew aren't of my making. Suing me would be futile, as I have about 3 knuts to my name presently, and I need those to buy food for my twenty-eight starving children... It's been a hard winter, and the little dears are contracting Leprosy as fast as anything... You get the picture... Also, keep in mind that this is my very first Harry Potter fanfic. Yay! Don't it make yer feel special? Too much sugar... Argh. Also, the title of the story, is from an Alex Lloyd song. Which, I also didn't write, but thought that it fit the occasion. On to the damn story.  
  
  
  
Black The Sun  
  
Harry Potter sat in the Gryffindor common-room, staring blankly out of the window at the blanket of snow which had fallen overnight. He had been in the same chair, same position, same frame of mind, for hours. It was almost Christmas. As a result, the common room, normally a hive of activity, was deserted. Harry preferred it that way, at least when he felt the way he did. The six years he had spent at Hogwarts had been his happiest ever, but after the next year, it would be over. His stomach lurched at the thought. He'd grown accustomed to life at the castle, as well as living with his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He was so absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't hear the quiet footsteps behind him. "Harry?" He turned his head slightly, listlessly. "Hermione." The girl approached the armchair almost apprehensively. "Up for a game of wizard chess?" She asked, and when he shook his head, continued. "Are you okay, Harry?" Her voice was gentle, worried. But Harry mistook it for pity. "I'm fine, for the tenth time." He snapped. Instantly, he felt guilty. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone softer, almost... Defeated. Hermione sat in the armchair across from Harry, and he continued. "I'm going to miss it here, after next year." He said, almost to himself. Hermione stared out of the window at the snow covered landscape. "I think we all are."  
  
Despite both Ron and Hermione's attempts to cheer him up, Harry's mood didn't show any signs of lifting after dinner. Finally, he stalked back up to the Gryffindor tower alone, muttering something of a 'goodnight' to his friends. But instead of retiring to bed, Harry rummaged through the trunk at the foot of his four-poster bed. He pushed aside spell books, spare parchment and quills, before his hands closed over a familiar surface. He pulled out the old photo album, which Hagrid had made for him at the end of his first year. His fingers traced over the happy, smiling, not to mention moving, young family in the picture on the cover. He closed his eyes, determined not to let the tears spill over. He hadn't cried for his parents in a while, a realization which depressed him further. Finally, he gently placed the book under his pillow, and returned to the trunk. He quickly tided the mess he'd created, and finally emerged with his father's invisability cloak in his hand. He threw it about himself, and set off.  
  
Harry didn't really have plans of going anywhere, he just felt the urge to get away from the castle. Careful to avoid any of the few students left at Hogwarts over the holidays, he crossed the grounds and headed for the Quidditch pitch. The sun was setting, staining the sky brilliant shades of pink, orange and purple. Harry stood on the magically manicured lawn, his eyes to the heavens. He felt... He couldn't put his finger on it. Empty? Afraid? Not afraid, Harry decided, terrorfied. But it wasn't the heart- stopping terror he'd felt while facing Voldemort. This was a new, slow- burning emotion, seething in the pit of his stomach, lurking at the edge of his conciousness. He felt stupid, being scared something he couldn't describe. Harry turned back to the building. 'Perhaps,' He thought, 'I could become an Auror', like the imposter Mad-Eye Moony had suggested all those years ago. Visions of himself, slightly older, stalking Dark Wizards like the muggle detectives he'd seen on television when he was younger, danced through his head, summoning a slight wry smile.  
  
He set off again, slowly, still deep in thought. He was about to turn the corner, on his way back to the Gryffindor tower, when a small cough behind him caught his attention. Careful to keep the cloak covering himself, he turned, and was surprised to see Draco Malfoy, sitting in the shadows of the tower. A familiar anger began rising in Harry; he and Malfoy had been enemies since their very first train ride to Hogwarts. But this figure did not seem to belong to the same Malfoy that Harry knew. His usual arrogance and grace had seemingly dissapated. The Slytherin seeker sat, leaning against the cold stone, his blonde head resting on his knees. Harry watched him, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Malfoy cleared his throat. "Fuck off, Potter." He growled, his voice low, and almost dangerously silken. Harry was taken aback, but before he could respond, ask how Draco knew he was there, the other boy spoke again. "I know you're there. I can see your footprints in the grass," he paused, "and before you deny it, I know, pretty much for a fact, that no-one else here has an invisability cloak." Harry turned to leave, but something held him back. Disreguarding every hostile encounter he'd had with Malfoy during his time at Hogwarts, he turned back. "Are you okay?" He asked softly. Malfoy snorted. "Why the hell would you care?" Harry remained silent, which seemed to feed the other boy's anger. "Enough of this good-deed bullshit, okay? Just fuck off, and leave me alone." Harry's emerald gaze lingered on Draco's slight form. 'Why am I bothering?' Harry wasn't sure why he was still there. "You didn't answer me. Are you okay?" He repeated. Draco looked up, his normally pale skin blotched and red, as though he'd been crying. He glared at the spot where he assumed Harry was. He started to answer, but his voice cracked. Finally, he managed to whisper. "No."  
  
A harsh voice suddenly filled the air. "What is it, my dear?" Draco looked up. "Filch." He breathed. Before he could move, Harry rushed over, and threw the cloak over both himself and Draco. The blonde started to protest, until Harry pressed his hand over his mouth. The air almost crackled, as though electfified. Harry could feel Draco's breathing, shallow and rapid against his fingertips. They stared at each other, Draco's cold grey eyes to Harry's warm green. Harry withdrew his hand, and looked away, suddenly embarassed, the moment shattered. Filch crept around the corner, his sharp eyes peeled for any sign of students, any excuse to hand out detentions. He kept close to the stone wall, trying to flush out his prey. Harry flattened himself against the wall, and next to him, Draco did the same. The caretaker passed them by, and disappeared into the dusk. Harry removed the cloak from the two of them. 'What the hell is going on?' He thought, his mind spinning. He stared at the ground, his brow slightly furrowed in thought. Something had passed between them, Harry was sure of that, but what had it been? When he tried to steal a glance at the Slytherin, he found him doing the same. Draco held his gaze. "Thanks." He breathed in barely more than a whisper. 


	2. Salvation Comes Only In My Dreams

- Sorry this has been so long in the making. I've been sick, and I've had homework, and my potions final is coming up soon... Well, the first two are true. Anyway, I'm a review junkie (hint, hint!!!) so, ENJOY CHAPTER TWO! By the way, I'm not entirely sure as to where this is going... It may develop into H/D slash, so if you don't like it, don't read it. Title by NIN. Until next chapter -Bouncing Ferret  
  
Chapter 2 Salvation comes only in my dreams  
  
"Fucking hell, Goyle!" Draco cried, slamming his fist against his desk. Both Goyle, and Crabbe, two enormous, and thick-headed Slytherins, blinked stupidly at the smaller boy. "What?" Goyle asked blankly. Draco glared at the cold, stone wall of his dorm, seething with anger. His so-called friends, they were more like bodyguards, really, frustrated him to no end. He wished, not for the first time, that he had selected his friends more carefully, back in first year. Perhaps he shouldn't have alienated so many of his peers. He sighed, trying to regain his normal, icy composure. "Now," he said slowly, as though speaking to a small, and perhaps rather stupid, child, "could you please leave me alone for three seconds? You two may be more than happy to let yourselves be thrown out, but I have work to do." At that, he gathered up his books, and stomped off towards to library, leaving Crabbe and Goyle, still confused, in his wake.  
  
The Hogwarts library was huge, and not unlike Draco's father's personal library. Draco shuddered. He had heard the rumours, that his corrupt Death- Eater father had abused him as a child, but they were all lies. He had, in fact, been a happy, and completely spoilt little boy. But the rumour-mill did have one thing right, he never wanted to become his father. He detested looking in the mirror; the famous Malfoy platinum-blonde hair, the same sharp features, and cold grey eyes as his father. He looked exactly as the Malfoy heir should, and hated himself for it. Lucius was a Death-Eater, as everybody knew, but what they did not know, was that he was also a violent alcoholic, prone to frequent, volatile tantrums. Draco had learned to cope with these outbursts long ago, and escaped to the safety of his room whenever his father started drinking. Not that Lucius had ever turned on Draco, at least not physically, but Draco simply preferred his father sober, at least then he left him alone. His mother was the one no-one ever suspected as being the abusive parent, another thing the rumours had been wrong about. Her harsh words still echoed in his head. "Draco, you fucking pathetic little queer..." That had been the main reason he'd wanted so badly to attend Durmstrang, instead of Hogwarts, to get as far away from the Malfoy name as humanly possible.  
  
He took a seat, and gracelessly dumped the books in front of him. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate, he rarely could these days. He supposed it was a combination of the anemia he was rather prone to, and the number of important issues he was turning over in his head. The end of his time at Hogwarts was drawing near, and the question of his future was nearing with it. He didn't have plans, post-graduation, however that wasn't a problem. It wasn't as though he needed money. The problem was the regular owls his father had been sending him; thinly veiled bribes to consider a life as a death-eater. Draco shook his head, trying to clear it. Although he had grown up surrounded by supporters of Voldemort, God, he had even been taught to use his name, he had no intention of joining them. He saw their cause as nothing more than pathetic hero worship, although he would never voice his opinion in front of his parents. His inheritance was already under threat, after his refusals of an arranged-marriage. That surprised even Draco. He had been raised under the impression that when he was old enough, his parents would select the daughter of another old wizarding family, and the two would be wed; no ifs, ands or buts.  
  
The young Slytherin sighed. He wasn't sure what it was about the prospect of the arranged-marriage that he was so violently opposed to. He wasn't especially interested in love, or even sex for that matter. The whole idea was too messy, both physically and emotionally, for his liking. But what troubled him the most, was that his parents' involvement, he hesitated to refer to it as a relationship, was the product of such an arrangement. An agreement to participate would simply be another step towards truely being his father's son.  
  
Draco sat back against the hard wood of the chair, and allowed his mind to wander. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar Gryffindor back, over the other side of the room. Hermione had become almost a permanent fixture in the Hogwarts library from day one. Draco didn't much care for her, but even he had to admit that she was rather a brilliant student. She was alone, as she usually was in the library, the only place she ever seemed to be alone. Normally, she was rarely seen outside the company of Harry and that little bastard, Weasley. At the thought of Harry, Draco's mind gave a slight jolt. There was something about him that fascinated Draco. He was no longer jelous of the Gryffindor, and the pair had assumed a cold distance from each other, rather than the white-hot hatred of earlier years.  
  
He toyed with the idea of approaching Hermione, asking after Harry, but quickly decided against it. She, like so many others, detested Draco, and would enquire as to why he was asking. What could he tell her? He didn't know, himself. Why did he care? He gathered up his books, and quickly left the library, in search of asprin. 


	3. Wear Your Grudge Like A Crown

-Yes, it's finally here! Chapter three of my strange little fanfic. Title of this episode thanks to Tool (Love your work, guys). Shout-outs to everyone who's bothered to review thus far. All three of you. (Don't mind me, I'm just bitter today...Today?!) Also, big thanks to J.K.R. for creating these fab characters for us fanfickers to play with. Please keep reading my stuff, it gives me a sense of purpose in the world. All appologies for this being shorter than usual. If you want someone to blame, then go and whinge to my maths teacher. Cheerio!  
  
  
  
Chapter 3 Wear Your Grudge Like A Crown  
  
To say Harry wasn't in the best of moods, was a grevious understatement. He'd watched himself go from slightly grumpy, to full-blown pissed off, as Christmas approached. He rarely spoke, and when he did, a dangerous undertone of anger seeped into his usually gentle voice. He prowled the halls, generally after dark, although in search or what, he didn't know. Ron had enquired, and Harry knew he was afraid that his friend had once again found the Mirror Of Erised, but Harry had muttered something about needing to sort things out, and dissapeared again.  
  
He'd almost become nocturnal. Whenever Ron or Hermione's back was turned, he'd slip off into the shadows, as if he'd never been there at all. Harry couldn't explain why it was that he preferred solitude, to the company of his friends; they'd stuck by him through everything. But these new thoughts were invading his head. He wasn't sure if this was how it felt to go mad, but he assumed it was something close. New musings appeared out of no- where, things about... Certain people.  
  
Days had gone by since Harry's encounter with Draco, and yet his mind still buzzed. He thought back to his first impression of the Slytherin, back in Madam Malkin's, when he'd likened him to Dudley. Draco had changed since then. The petty taunts had stopped somewhere after fourth year, as had the bragging. From what Harry heard, Lucius had been demoted in Voldemort's ranks. Apparently, Draco was now devoid of things to brag about.  
  
He caught himself. He'd been thinking about Draco again. 'Malfoy,' he told himself, 'bloody well call him Malfoy.' He shook his head, trying to clear away the fog in his mind, which had formed in recent days. When, if, he slept, he dreamed strange visions; rather than his usual nightmares. He could cope with nightmares. He knew how to feel about Voldemort, and losing his parents. But these new dreams... He didn't remember all the details; he wished not to remember the ones he could recall. Especially not that one, platinum blonde figure, that he always seemed to find himself saving. Or had Draco been saving him?  
  
Harry slipped out of the comfort of his bed, and into the cold darkness. Ron hadn't come back into the dorm, the last Harry had seen of him, he'd been curled up with Hermione in the Common room. Although Harry was glad that his two best friends were happy, he found himself feeling more and more isolated. A majority of his year were slowly pairing up, things were changing so fast. Too fast, for Harry's liking.  
  
He made his way out of the Gryffindor dorm, the invisability cloak covering him from head to toe. He wished, not for the first time, that things could go back to the way they had been in the past. When Ron, Hermione and himself were just friends, nothing more. When life at Hogwarts consisted of friends, classes, homework, Quidditch, and the occasional adventure. Things had been so simple back then. 'Things have to change,' Harry reminded himself, 'it's the way the world works.' He continued his stroll around the castle, deep in thought. It was as though his childhood was slipping away; as if he was shedding the person he'd once been, and emerging this completely new Harry Potter. He didn't like the feeling one bit.  
  
The warmth of his bed was beginning to wear off, and Harry shivered in the cold night. He longed to go outside, but a fresh blanket of snow was falling, dampening any hopes of escaping the confines of the castle. It was the first time that he'd found himself resenting the castle. He rounded a corner, and almost collided with a dark figure. He stepped aside just in time, his heart hammering in his chest. He'd immediatly assumed that if anyone else were to be wandering the halls after lights-out, it would be a teacher, but to his surprise, he found himself face to face once more, with Draco Malfoy. 


	4. The Only Chance We Have

-Wow, two chapters in two days, I must be on a roll. Hmm... I think the plot may be finally going somewhere! The title is from a song by Think Tank, in case you care. Please, PLEASE review if you like it, or even if you don't, but just make it constructive, okay?! Until next time... -Bouncing Ferret  
  
Chapter 4 The Only Chance We Have  
  
Draco stopped dead. He wasn't alone in the hall, he could tell. He glanced about himself, feeling more and more paranoid as the seconds dragged past. He wasn't sure what it was about the hall which gave him the feeling that he was being watched. Perhaps, subconciously, he'd heard a footfall, or a gasp or sigh. Both Draco's heart and mind raced as he assessed the situation; whatever was sharing the hall with him had to be either a ghost, or someone in posession of an invisability cloak. At this realization, a certain warmth filled him. If it was a ghost, they would have shown themselves by this time. Most of the castle ghosts were friendly enough, or rude enough to either show themselves, or perhaps throw something at him. Which meant that the intruder had to be human, or more specifically, Harry.  
  
Before he could say a word, the air in front of him shimmered slightly. "Draco. Merlin's beard! I thought you were a teacher." Harry's disembodied voice whispered. Draco stared at the point where he imagined Harry would be standing. "What are you doing out so late?" He asked quietly, so as not to arouse the suspicion of the Hogwarts staff. Harry removed the cloak, and replied "The same could be asked of you." He smiled slightly, uncertainly, as though he wasn't sure what he could expect in return. Draco enjoyed having the upper hand, and, almost sadistically, kept his features neutral. "I'm merely out for a moonlit stroll," he drawled, "how about you?" Harry's smile wavered, and finally vanished. "Much the same." His eyes betrayed his offhand reply. Draco could tell that he hadn't been alone in his days of wondering quite what had occured on the Quidditch pitch. He finally relaxed his stance, and leaned casually against the wall. "And where, pray tell, is this stroll leading you?" Harry watched his eyes, still unsure of the situation. "Nowhere in particular." Draco stood up. "Alright then, enough idle chit-chat. If we left the comfort of our respective beds to walk, then let us walk." He took a few steps, and turned to Harry. "That is, if you don't mind being seen in the company of a Slytherin."  
  
They walked in silence for a while, years of bitter rivalry had dried up any conversation, until finally, Draco stopped, and spoke. "Why did you help me the other day?" Harry, who's eyes had been trained on the stone floor, rose to meet Draco's. He didn't answer for a while, until finally, he admitted "I'm not sure." Draco didn't break the eye contact. "Was it good old reliable Gryffindor chivalry, or was it something else?" He asked, his usual hint of sarcasm edging into his tone. Harry knew better than to look away. If he did, it would just be letting Draco win. He was trying to intimidate Harry, although why, neither of them knew. After what seemed like an eternity, Draco finally turned, and continued down the hall. "Enough of this staring into each others' eyes nonsense," he told Harry, "I must admit, I did have an ulterior motive to asking you along tonight." He let the remark hang in the air, without elaborating, trying to judge Harry's reaction. Harry purposly avoided giving him the satisfaction, and stared straight ahead into the gloom. Draco smiled slightly to himself, musing over the predictability of Gryffindors in his head. "I want to know something." He told Harry. Harry continued to stare into the gloom, allowing himself only a slight sideways glance at Draco.  
  
Draco knew he had the Gryffindor worried. He liked the sensation. "Why did you turn down my friendship that day?" Harry was taken aback. He would never have thought Draco would dwell on the event, or even remember it overly vividly. But when he turned to look at Draco, he was staring at the floor. "You insulted Ron, as well as half the other first-years within seconds of meet-" Draco cut him off. "No. That's not why. I'm sure of it." His grey eyes flashed in the moonlight. He paused, as though struggling with what to say, before he finally continued, his voice much lower, and with something closely resembling regret staining the reply. "What did you see in me that repulsed you so much?"  
  
Harry couldn't answer. The question was completly out of the blue. After carefully wording his answer, he told Draco "Nothing about you... Repulsed me." Draco inclined his head slightly, "But you refused my friendship all the same." He wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue, and it scared him slightly, but he continued. "And I want to know why." 


End file.
